


The Sugared Violets Bakery

by gaygreekgladiator (ama)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-12
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:39:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/gaygreekgladiator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Laeta, Kore, Sibyl, and Nasir have all worked in the bakery for three years or more now--which, of course, means that there is no such thing as privacy and they're all a wee bit codependent. But they like it that way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wednesday: Strawberry Shortcake

**Author's Note:**

> My final reverse big bang prompt, written for wordslinging's [lovely graphic](http://ic.pics.livejournal.com/spartacusrbbmod/65201913/8093/8093_original.jpg), which I may or may not have done justice too--sadly, there is no Jenna Lind in a bathtub in this fic. If you can still stand to read it, enjoy!

The bell on the door jangled happily. Kore was in the middle of listing their muffins for a customer, but her eyes drifted over to door; for the first three years after they opened, she and Laeta had been the only regular cashiers, and old habits died hard. When she saw the couple walking through the door, she gave a delighted gasp.

“Sibyl, could you—?” she asked vaguely, and hastened around the counter. “ _Hello_!”

“Hi, Kore,” Pietros said with a grin. He leaned down and proffered his cheek for a kiss, but Kore merely bumped her face against his absently as she went straight for the one-year-old in his arms. Realizing his mistake, Pietros laughed and turned to Barca. “I’ve been replaced,” he said mournfully.

“Don’t be ridiculous—she never talked to you like _that_ ,” Barca said with his razor-sharp smile as Kore cooed at Jayden. She was doing her best to use real words, because Pietros had been bragging about his language acquisition, but she just couldn’t _help_ the baby-talk tone. And besides, she was adamant that it made babies smile, so what was the harm in it?

Pietros kissed the top of her head instead, and stepped around the customer that she had abandoned, who was looking grumpily at them from the corner of her eye, and paying poor Sibyl no attention at all.

“We have an actual reason to be here,” Pietros promised her. “First, to invite you to his birthday party next week—”

“We’ll be there.”

“Would you like to know the time? Or the _day_?” Kore shrugged, and Pietros chuckled. “Anyway, the second thing—one of the other parents from our preschool already volunteered a cake—”

“I think we should tell them to shove it, but _someone_ is too nice,” Barca interrupted. Pietros elbowed him and continued.

“But I couldn’t bear the thought that someone else might make my son’s first cake, so he’s going to have it here first. What would you recommend?”

After some deliberation, they decided on the daily special, and Kore went to the back room to dig her camera out of her purse. While back there she also found Nasir, who was texting someone with a goofy smile on his face. He too was recruited, and together they managed to take sixty-two pictures of Jayden happily munching on a strawberry, licking smushed caked off his hands, and throwing a huge glob of pink frosting into Pietros’s hair.

It was deemed a successful cupcake eating, and the happy family left, a little pinker than they had been before. Ten minutes later, Laeta showed up to go over some paperwork; she kissed Kore hello, gave Sibyl a quick hug, and waved at Nasir, who was elbow-deep in dough. The day progressed as usual until about six o’clock. They were just starting to close up when Kore’s stepdaughter strolled in, gulping from her water bottle.

She greeted everyone with the ease of long familiarity, and leaned over the counter to kiss Kore on the cheek.

“Hey Kore,” Christina said. “Is Mom here? I was promised dinner.”

“Were you now?”

“Italian. Dessert too,” she nodded.

Christina’s eyes, so similar to her mother’s, were serious but sparkling with energy and her cheeks were still bright red from dance. Her bag was slung over shoulder and her strawberry curls were spilling out of her bun. Aside from the dishevelment, which was not characteristic, she was the spitting image of Laeta—the only real distinction was that she had inherited her father’s height. At fifteen, she already towered over her mother and her stepmother… and Nasir, for that matter, which caused him no end of amusement.

“She’s in back. Here, you take a seat and I’ll go get her; she might need to be dug out of the paperwork.”

Kore slipped into Laeta’s office and found her wife just as ruffled as Christina, although in her case she was less flushed and more covered in blue ink.

“There’s a girl here demanding Italian food,” Kore said blandly.

Laeta looked up and for a moment her face was perfectly blank before realization dawned.

 _“Oh._  Okay, I didn’t realize it was that late. I’ll be out in one minute, as soon as I’m done with this.” She gestured at the paperwork, and then picked up her camera with a smile. “I saw we had another visitor.”

“You should have been here; it was adorable,” Kore grinned. “Party’s on Saturday—not this coming Saturday, the one after—and we’re invited. There will be inferior, homemade cupcakes.”

“Tragic.”

“Oh, and don’t let me forget—we should talk!” Kore threw over her shoulder as she turned to leave.

Laeta stood and walked over, her hand reaching out to hook loosely around Kore’s wrist.

“I’m going to let you forget; let’s talk about it real quick now. What’s up?”

Kore hesitated. She wiped her hands slowly on her apron, despite the fact that they were perfectly clean. In fact, she actually managed to pick up some flour and a sticky streak of icing, but it was a habit she never managed to shake.

Finally, with a determined huff, she looked up and affixed a sunny smile to her face.

“We’ll have to talk about it later, it’s kind of a big thing, but… I was just thinking that, while I absolutely love our life now and I love you and Christina more than I could ever articulate… I would also, at some point in the future, like to have a child. It’s, ah, been something I’ve always wanted, and we’ve talked about it in a vague kind of way before and I think, now, we should think about talking more specifically.”

Laeta was silent for a long, terrifying moment, staring at Kore’s face, and then she nodded slowly.

“Yes. Uh, you were right—we should probably talk later.”

She kissed Kore’s temple and Kore’s fiercely pounding heart calmed a little. When they emerged from the back room, she plastered a carefree smile on her face, but as they packed up and began to debate the merits of the promised Italian versus the new Japanese restaurant around the corner, she couldn’t pull her mind away from the subject it had been fixed on since Pietros, Barca, and Jayden had visited.

She had met Laeta almost six years ago, when she was looking for an investor for The Sugared Violets Bakery, and Laeta had been more than interested. She had immediately deduced that Kore was much more of a people-and-pastries person than a numbers person, and within a shockingly short amount of time, had decided to come in as a partner rather than a patron. Their romantic relationship was something out of a stereotypical lesbian joke, slowed only by the fact that they had wanted to be sensitive to Christina’s needs, which the girl in question had found very amusing. Christina was a smart, shrewd, easy-going girl, and Kore adored her.

But… it would also be nice to have a child who called her Mom.

They finally decided on a restaurant. Kore shook herself out of her reverie, and snatched a few chocolate croissants for dessert as they left the bakery.


	2. Thursday: Mint Chocolate Chip

“Well, well, well. What a surprise.”

A grin leapt to Nasir’s face as he turned away from the bread baskets to face the customer who had just come through the door. Castus had moved to the city just a few weeks ago, and almost instantly became a regular customer. He came every Monday morning for breakfast, and every Thursday after work for a loaf or two to go. Thursdays were the only night they were open past six, and Nasir the only one who worked the evening shift, which meant they had spent a fair amount of time chatting. Nasir liked Castus; visits from him were good for his ego, and it was nice to have a few jokes to get him through that last grueling hour or so.

“It’s almost like I’m paid to be here on a regular basis,” he remarked, leaning against the counter. Castus mimicked his posture with a dazzling smile.

“Almost,” he agreed. “But of course that’s impossible, because we all know you’re here to see me. Now, I’m in a sourdough mood, but my mom’s visiting on Tuesday and she’s more of a pumpernickel fan—thoughts?”

“That’s a tough one. I suppose it _really_ depends on how much you love your mom.”

“Well, I’d say—”

“Get the pumpernickel. That wasn’t a real question.”

Castus laughed and Nasir could feel his cheeks heat up. Goddamn, but Castus had a nice laugh. He stood up abruptly and turned around to rifle around for a paper bag, before Castus could see any embarrassment in his face.

“I don’t know, man. I love my mama, but compared to my favorite bread from my favorite miniature baker…”

Nasir snorted and tossed a glance over his shoulder.

“You’ve got a lot of nerve saying that when I’m the tallest person who works here.”

“That’s not saying much. Although I will admit that you look taller when your giant lumbering boyfriend isn’t here.”

Nasir shook his head as he slipped a pumpernickel loaf into the bag and turned around. Immediately, he froze. Agron was standing just inside the door, glaring at Castus in the way that meant he was seriously contemplating murder. His eyes darted over to Nasir, and Nasir felt his stomach sink.

“Hey,” he said in a voice that was hopefully only a bit quieter than usual. Then he turned back to Castus. “You’re mean, and your total is $5.31.”

“You got it,” Castus said cheerfully. He headed towards the door with an elaborate wave-and-nod at Agron. This was not their first meeting; Nasir was completely bemused at the quick and firm dislike they had developed, which showed no sign of dissipating. Castus turned back, his hand on the doorknob, and flashed Nasir a charming smile. “Thanks for keeping me stocked in carbs—you’re a lifesaver. See you next week!”

“Bye,” Nasir said with a strained smile.

For a minute, he ignored Agron’s gaze. He followed Castus to the door, locked it behind him, and flipped their signs to ‘closed.’ Then he rounded on Agron and let his irritation show on his face. They had already talked about this three times—which, in his opinion, was two times too many.

“What the hell was that?” he demanded.

“I could ask you the same question,” Agron snarled. He turned and prowled through the empty bakery with a scowl on his face. “Every fucking time—why do you always treat him like that? He’s a fucking asshole and I’ve told you that a thousand goddamn times!”

“Am I obligated to shun everyone you don’t like?” Nasir said, crossing his arms. Agron rolled his eyes.

“Don’t pretend like you’re all offended, Nasir, you know what I’m talking about.”

“So he flirts a little—”

“Oh so you _see_ the problem—”

“—big deal, he flirts with everyone!”

“—you just won’t _do_ anything about it.”

There was a ringing silence in the room as the words bounced off the tile floor, and Agron and Nasir glared at each other. They were both breathing hard, and Nasir took a deep breath to try and calm his voice. It felt _good_ to shout, but it wouldn’t get anything done.

“Agron,” he said, firmly and quietly. “People flirt with me. It happens. People flirt with you, too, but it’s not like I kick up a fuss over it, because it doesn’t _mean_ anything. Castus is well aware that it doesn’t mean anything.”

“But you’re attracted to him.”

“He’s an attractive man,” Nasir said coolly. “There’s a difference, you realize, between finding someone attractive and sleeping with them.”

“And does it make it harder or easier to tell the difference when you’re having a nice little laugh about me?”

“It was a joke, Agron,” Nasir sighed. He walked around the counter and began to wrap up the leftover breads and pastries. He was hoping that the menial pattern of closing up would soothe his temper, but it wasn’t doing a stellar job. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re taller than we are.”

“That’s not the point and you know it.”

“I don’t know what you want from me!” Nasir snapped, one hand waving wildly.

“To stop talking to that _jackass_.”

“ _No_. And the fact that you would actually ask me that, with absolutely no reason—it pisses me off.”

“Clearly,” Agron said, his voice rising to a shout. He growled, and his mouth contorted into various displeased expressions. Finally he held up his hands in defeat. “You know what—I’ve had a stressful fucking day and I don’t feel like arguing about this anymore. Do whatever the fuck you want.”

He stormed out of the room and Nasir was left to simmer in his anger. It wasn’t until he was leaving that he paused and remembered their texts from yesterday—they were supposed to go out tonight. Something simple, because they both had work and were bound to be tired, but… nine-month anniversary. As silly as it seemed, Agron was a big fan of celebrations.

He sighed, pocketed his keys, and strolled aimlessly down the lamp-lined street.


	3. Friday: Blue Velvet

Sweat was pouring down her body, she had eight new bruises by best count, and Sibyl had never felt more powerful.

“ _Good_!” Gannicus declared with a grin. “Really fucking awesome—I think that’s enough for tonight, don’t you?”

“One more round,” Sibyl panted, her hands resting on her knees. She had not expected to like kickboxing—she wasn’t a violent person by nature—but damn, was it satisfying.

Gannicus pulled a face. Every so often, he still liked to pretend that he was lazy and unmotivated, despite evidence to the contrary. She fluttered her eyelashes, and he laughed at her.

“Break first. Then one more round, and I swear to holy hell, if you hit me with that undercut one more time, I’m going to drop you in the pool.” Sibyl laughed, but agreed, and for a moment they simply huffed and puffed and gulped from their water bottles. Then Gannicus set his down, brushed hair out of his face, and fell heavily on the padded floor. “So, when do you find out that you’re the next Sylvia Plath? Gotta be soon, right?”

If Sibyl’s face wasn’t already scarlet from exertion, it would be now. She addressed her response to the floor.

“A few days… hopefully.”

“Exciting,” Gannicus commented. Sibyl grimaced and flopped against the ring.

“I don't know...”

“Come on, no regrets. Not now. It took you long enough to submit your stuff in the first place.”

Sibyl fiddled with her water bottle, frowning and thinking. She had started writing poetry... fourth grade maybe? Earlier? But she had rarely shown anyone, and just because she'd been doing it for a while didn't mean that she was any _good_. Kore and Nasir both knew, though neither of them pressured her to do anything with it. She hadn't told Laeta, for fear of being strong-armed into submitting herself for a Pulitzer or something. Not that Laeta would be MEAN about it. She probably wouldn't even know that she was doing it. She was just—intense, sometimes, that's all.

Then one day, she had made the mistake of bringing her notebook to work. In her defense, it had been a blizzard, and 99% of their regular customers were smart enough to stay home. Hell, Kore had even told her that she wouldn't be there at all if she hadn't been making cupcakes for her own Christmas party, but Sibyl had thought, why not? She would get to sit in a warm room, surrounded by the smell of hot chocolate, and maybe get a little writing done. Gannicus had shown up unexpectedly, beaming as though it weren't negative three degrees out. He had caught her off-guard and caught sight of a full page of scribbled poems, and somehow he had gotten it into his mind—without reading any of them—that she must be good.

Sibyl had submitted a short portfolio to one of her favorite literary magazines almost a full three weeks ago. Every time she forgot about it, Gannicus promptly reminded her by being so freaking cheerful about it. It was quite unlike him.

“I just—I really don't think I'm the right... type, you know? Or, I'm too much the right type. This confessional stuff is all the rage right now, especially from waifish straight girls with family issues, and—I'm really not cut out to be the next Plath. I would hate that so much.”

“Relax, hun,” Gannicus said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a tight hug. “No one WANTS you to be the next Plath. Trust me, literally no one wants that. But you are fucking amazing, and you're going to get credit for that whether you like it or not. Listen,” he added seriously, his voice pitched low. “You don't have to take this any further than you want to, you know that? And if you don’t like the way this goes, whether you get in or not, then you don’t have to do it again. Hell, work a cash register and do nothing else for your entire life, for all I care. It makes you fucking happy, doesn't it? Laeta and Kore would be thrilled.”

“Yeah,” Sibyl said, half-heartedly. “That's a thing people do, isn't it? Work a retail job, become a failing artist on the side?”

“Failing's better than starving. And sweetie, you're not going to fail... except in kickboxing. Because I'm going to kick your ass.”

Sibyl stood with a grin and a wicked smile.

“Bring it on, old man.”


	4. Saturday: Peanut Butter Cup

It was Saturday. Laeta disliked working on Saturdays; she could still remember a time back when her husband was alive and Saturdays were take-Christina-to-the-park days, or family lunch days and whatnot. But hey, she also liked being able to take time off with a day's notice and not having to listen to anyone else, so it was a fair price to pay, really. Besides, she thought with a dry smile, it wasn't as though Christina wanted to go to the park with her parents anymore. She had one dance class in the morning, and then usually took the opportunity to go to the mall with her friends afterwards. Weeknights and Sunday afternoons—barring homework—were the only days really reserved for family.

Unbidden, her recent conversations with Kore floated into her mind. She tried to banish it and focus on bills, but math had never been that compelling. Within fifteen seconds, her pen had dropped to the table and her chin was in her hands, her lips twisted in a frown.

“That's a terrifying look.”

Laeta looked up, her face automatically contorting into a smile, and saw Sibyl in the doorway, a nervously encouraging smile on her face.

“What's that?” she asked.

“You looked... well, like the way you looked when that guy asked for a dough-less doughnut. Perplexed and pissed off.”

“It's nothing,” Laeta said, waving her away with a sigh. “Were you going to say something?”

“Oh no, just—it's about time to close up, and I was wondering if I could duck out just a few minutes early? One of my friends just got engaged, so she's having a little dinner thing tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Have fun!”

She waved her away again, but Sibyl hesitated at the door.

“Laeta... is something the matter? You've been a bit distracted for a few days now.”

“I—” Laeta chewed her lip for a moment, considering it, and sighed. This was really, really unprofessional, but... Sibyl knew Kore. She knew both of them, and she wasn’t quite close enough for personal feelings to cloud her judgement. Laeta might as well confide in her. “Something's thrown me for a little bit of a loop,” she admitted. “And I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do about it.”

“Oh.” Sibyl glanced over her shoulder. “Okay—here, let me just lock the doors, okay? And then, if you want to tell me more...”

“Thank you.”

Sibyl disappeared for a moment, and faint sounds drifted from the main room—the heavy thunk of the door being locked, the beeping of the cash register. Familiar sounds. When Sibyl reappeared, she was carrying two mugs of decaf French vanilla coffee and a cupcake topped with not one, but two peanut butter cups.

“It seemed like an emergency,” she grinned when Laeta laughed.

“It is. No it's not.” Laeta picked one of the peanut butter cups off of the frosting and nibbled at it thoughtfully. Ever since she was a child, she had always tried to bite off the chocolate first, which Kore found both sacrilegious and hilarious. “Don't—please don't tell anyone I mentioned this, okay? But Kore wants to have another child. A baby, really.”

She paused and popped the entire peanut butter cup into her mouth as she waited for Sibyl's reaction. Sibyl was clutching her coffee in both hands, her gaze absently fixed at some point on Laeta's desk. Her face was blank, and after a moment of silence, she looked up at Laeta with her eyebrows raised.

“Okay, go on.”

“That's it.”

Sibyl frowned quizzically and set her coffee cup on the table.

“That's—it? Laeta, are you telling me you didn't _know_?”

“What do you mean?” Laeta asked, her heart sinking. “How long has she felt this way?”

“God, since _she_ was a toddler, probably. Laeta, Kore practically adopts every baby who walks through the door. She has three godchildren. She worked at a daycare for four years in college. Of _course_ she wants a baby. I'm sorry,” she added abashedly. “I'm sorry, I probably sound rude. But really, I can't _believe_ the two of you haven't talked about this before.”

Laeta stared at her, mouth agape. A red flush colored her face as she thought about it. She knew that Kore loved being a mom, and in retrospect Sibyl’s words made sense, but… they’d been together for four years now. _How_ had she never put two and two together? For that matter, how had they gone so long without discussing it?

They hadn’t, she realized with a sinking heart. They had talked about it all the time. Laeta had asked Kore what she thought about being a mother, for Christina’s sake, and Kore had replied with such enthusiasm that it should have been obvious. It was all future, too—”I can’t wait to go through this with you,” “I would love to have children.” Oh _god_.

“Do you not want any more kids?” Sibyl asked hesitantly. Laeta gulped at her coffee.

“I… yes. I mean—no, it’s not that. I always wanted to have a few, but my husband didn’t, and then… Christina’s _sixteen_. I just kind of assumed that that part of my life was over.”

“Laeta,” Sibyl said with a grin. “In the last six years, you’ve invested in a bakery, gotten married, and bought a house. I think it’s safe to say that you’ve gone through a complete renaissance. And—for what it’s worth—you’re one of the most amazing parents I’ve ever seen, Kore is _made_ to be a mom, and Christina is totally awesome. If any family could make it through all this, it would be you guys.”

Laeta stared at her mutely for a moment, utterly touched. She reached out and squeezed Sibyl’s hand in hers.

“Thank you, sweetie. I’ll keep that in mind. Go on, go to your party. I’ll be fine.”


	5. Sunday: Lemon Meringue

Sunday was Sibyl’s day off. Theoretically, she should be heading straight home for something soothing, like a bubble bath and a luxurious nap on silk sheets… or at least a pair of comfy sweatpants and a Gilmore Girls binge. Instead, she found herself leaving church and walking right into the Sugared Violets bakery, which lay a convenient two blocks away. She walked in just as Nasir was brewing the first cup of coffee. She took a deep breath and smiled.

“Hey you,” Nasir said in mock outrage when he spotted her. “Don’t you have better places to be?”

“The coffee tastes best when I don’t have to make it,” she teased as she approached the counter. Nasir leaned over and gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. “I’ll take a regular in a mug, please. Two creams, two sugars.”

“You got it, hun. How was church? Oh, and anything to eat?”

“Fine. Who made the danishes this morning?”

“Kore, smartass,” he snorted.

“Then I’ll take an apple,” she said teasingly, and Nasir shook his head as he began to fix her order.

They chatted idly for a few moments; Nasir was quite pleased at her newest tales of kickboxing with Gannicus, and they were both excited to see that the weather was starting to warm up significantly. Last fall they had started a “let’s bully each other into biking more” project, but neither of them had the motivation to bully each other or themselves when there was still slush piled on the road.

“Hey, Sibyl,” Kore said, emerging with a smile from the back. She brushed flour off her hands and leaned against the display. “How's it going?”

“Good. We were just talking about going biking on Tuesday, you interested?”

“Sorry, I'm busy doing literally anything else but that,” Kore laughed. “You two have fun, though.”

Sibyl chuckled and sat at the table with her breakfast. Almost immediately, her phone buzzed and her heart rate jumped. Her hand stretched toward her pocket automatically and then she stopped. It was a Sunday. Offices were closed. There was no possible way she was getting an email from the litmag today.

But...

In one quick movement, before she could convince herself to stop, she whipped her phone out of her pocket and checked her email. 50% off coupon on purses. She sighed and set it down... only immediately to pick it back again. Update from a petition she had signed seven months ago and literally never thought of since. With a huff, she placed her phone back into her purse and zipped it, then tossed it under her chair.

“Expecting something?” Kore asked, amused. “You look like Nasir when Agron is five minutes late with their bi-hourly texts.”

Sibyl forced a laugh and Nasir pursed his lips, turning away.

“Hey,” Kore frowned, a note of concern in her voice. She touched Nasir's elbow. “You okay? What was that?”

“It's nothing—nothing,” Nasir repeated firmly when Sibyl stood and joined them. “Agron and I are just...” He exhaled in a quick huff. “Agron's been stressed at work lately and that's fine, but he's been using some things that I do as an excuse to vent, and that’s _not_ fine. Things like...” He coughed politely. “Letting attractive customers flirt with me. I mean, what am I going to do, _really_? Haul them over the counter and have sex in the flour?”

“I sincerely hope not. God, that must be frustrating,” Kore said, sympathetically rubbing his shoulder.

“For both of us, really. I mean, I _get_ it, I'm proud of him, he's been working a lot lately and it's rough. But at the same time...” His cheeks pinked and he pushed his hair back self-consciously. “I haven't dated much, okay? And really no one I've dated has been _nice_ , besides Agron, so when guys are nice to me...”

“It's an ego boost,” Sibyl finished. “It feels good. We get it, hun; you have nothing to apologize for.”

“I have _some_ things to apologize for,” he muttered. “I've kind of been flirting more boldly with Castus when Agron annoys me, but _still_.”

“Good,” Kore said, squeezing his arm. “Don't let him get away with anything. Trust me, I live with two of the most stubborn women on the planet, and you need to head things off fast or nothing ever happens. And for God's _sake_ , Sibyl, who are you expecting?” she demanded as Sibyl's phone buzzed again and she turned towards her table instinctively.

“Nothing—no one.” Nasir and Kore both looked at her, and her cheeks were stained red. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to...”

“You're not interrupting,” Nasir said, shaking his head. “By all means, let's change the subject. I just needed a minute to rant.”

“Fine,” she sighed. “I submitted some poems to a literary magazine. I should hear back in the next couple of days.”

Kore gasped and clasped her hands delightedly.

“That's _fantastic_ , Sibyl! I'm so proud of you.”

“Thanks, Mom,” she muttered, but Kore simply brushed it aside and yanked her into a hug. She was much stronger than she looked.

“As if that's supposed to embarrass me—please. No, really, that's wonderful, sweetie.”

“I haven't even heard back yet!”

“But you're putting yourself out there,” Nasir said with a smile. “That's the first step.”

“Yeah... I'm a bit worried,” she admitted, shifting her weight anxiously. “I submitted them at first as kind of a joke... because Gannicus said I should. But now—I don't know, I've realized that I'm really excited and I _do_ want to be included, and it would be great if I could. It's probably not going to happen, though.”

“It's _possible_ ,” Kore said. She kissed her on the cheek and drew back, holding her by the shoulders and looking her in the eye. Her smile was supportive and blinding. “Which means you've already challenged yourself and that's more than a lot of people ever do. I _probably_ wasn't going to get a loan to open this place when I started, you know.”

“So all you need to do is cross your fingers and hope that the admissions person is your soulmate,” Nasir joked, and they all laughed.

“Maybe didn't think that one through,” Kore muttered to herself.

Sibyl grinned to herself as she went back to her table and dragged the wire mesh chair over to the counter. She balanced her plate on her lap and sipped from her coffee, and hoped that no actual customers would come in and ask about this strange girl sitting in the middle of the room. Apparently, even on her day off, she couldn't stray from the gossip—but it _was_ her day off, and damned if she was going to spend it on her feet.

“What, is it my turn to spill my secrets?” Kore asked, her lips curving in a wry smile.

“Honey, we all know all of your secrets,” Nasir said.

“I could get _new_ secrets!” she protested indignantly.

“What, like the baby thing?” Sibyl asked, fingers lifted to her lips to prevent the loss of flaky bits of pastry. Kore's cooking was divine—not a crumb could be missed.

Kore froze for a moment, and looked casually over her shoulder.

“What baby thing?”

“You wanting one, and Laeta apparently not realizing despite the fact that it's _completely obvious_ ,” Nasir answered cheerfully as he wrote the specials on the blackboard. “Face it, honey, you and Laeta are the prime objects of gossip round here. Everyone wants to know the boss's secrets, even if the bosses make up half the company.”

“Where did you hear about that?” Kore demanded. Sibyl shrugged apologetically.

“Laeta told me yesterday. Just a little bit—I asked her what was going on and she kind of... blurted it out.”

“ _Yesterday_? What did you do, show up at Nasir's apartment in the night to gossip?” Kore asked, although she looked more bemused than angry.

“She didn't tell me,” Nasir spoke up.

“Who did?”

“Christina.”

“Chr—my stepdaughter, Christina?”

“She told me a month after Jayden was born, actually, but that neither of you had realized what was going to happen, and then on Friday she just dropped by to say 'it's begun.' Smart kid, that one.”

“Oh my God.” Kore's hand fluttered over her eyes. She didn't seem capable of discerning exactly what emotions she was feeling, and after a moment she threw up both hands dramatically. “Okay, forget this. It has been a crazy week, and all three of us deserve cupcakes.”


	6. Monday: Sugared Violet

Mondays were the busiest days of the week at the Sugared Violets Bakery; every regular they had seemed to think that they deserved a treat to start off the week, and as a result, every employee was there from six-thirty AM (or earlier, in Kore and Nasir's case) to 5 PM. It was a rough day, improved only by the light at the end of the tunnel. Tuesday—Everyone's Day Off.

Nasir's day started with a dozen racks of bread loaves, all freshly baked and stacked neatly on the shelves. When that was done, he began helping Kore with the pastries. She was the acknowledged genius when it came to sweet things, especially the cupcakes, but he was good with bagels and decent with croissants. With a loud snap, he shut the oven door on one last batch of croissants, and brought a cooler tray over to the counter. With expert precision, he trailed a brush of sweet glaze over each one and dropped precisely eight almond shavings on each. In the midst of this, his eye was caught by the bowl at Kore's elbow.

“You know I haven't actually _had_ a sugared violet since Christmas?” he said abruptly, trying to ignore the growl in his stomach. He had already eaten; this was just his body's ploy to get him to consume one of Kore's signature cupcakes. Of course, knowing that it was a ploy didn't help him ignore it any better.

Kore looked up at him with a grin. Her hands didn't so much as waver as she swirled a very pale purple frosting over one of the cupcakes.

“No, I understand—Laeta refuses to eat them too much, in case she gets bored. That would be _tragic_.”

Nasir chuckled. He piled the almond and chocolate croissants on plate and carried them out to the front. Customers were just starting to trickle in; Oenomaus and Melitta waved at him cheerfully and almost applauded when they saw what he was carrying. They both worked at a nearby middle school, and came twice a week for the kind of sweet indulgence that was necessary when working with preteens.

The bell rang near constantly as Nasir stocked the display, and he didn't even notice when Agron came in until he had finished. He straightened, balancing his plate on his hip, and found himself face-to-face with Agron. Well. Face-to-chest, really. He tilted his head up.

“Hey,” Agron said awkwardly.

“Hey,” Nasir said, dragging the word out. He did the math in his head; beyond a few terse text messages, they hadn't really spoken in four days.

Agron cleared his throat.

“I overreacted,” he admitted grudgingly. Agron was not particularly eloquent in matters like these, so Nasir was not surprised that this proved to be the whole of his apology—supplemented by an enormous bouquet of hyacinths that he had ineffectively hidden behind his back. Nasir accepted them happily.

“You did. And I may have egged you on a bit because I was irritated,” he admitted. He stretched on his tiptoes for an apologetic kiss. “I wouldn’t have slept with him, you know.”

“I know.”

“If nothing else, his husband would be really mad at me.”

There was a wonderfully delicious pause in which Nasir watched Agron’s face change as that information sunk in.

“He's _married_?”

“Quite happily, yes. Kore made a pie for their five-year anniversary last month.”

“You never—”

“I didn't _have_ to, Agron.”

Agron nodded and held up a hand apologetically.

“Right, right. You didn't have to, because it doesn't mean shit what he thinks; it matters what _you_ think. Yadda yadda.”

Nasir couldn't help the grin that stretched across his face. Agron was completely ridiculous... but he was too damn sweet, even if he tried to hide it.

“Come here, you big lumbering oaf.”

He opened the partition dividing the counter from the main room, and was immediately swept into a hug. He squeezed Agron tightly, and pulled back as much as he was able to kiss the skin beneath his ear.

“I love you,” he mumbled.

“Love you, too.”

“I have to go... my place for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah.”

Agron kissed him for a long moment, and Nasir reluctantly let him go when Duro started wolf-whistling. Nasir hadn't even _seen_ Duro, but the whistling was unmistakable. He sighed.

“Really? Big romantic reunion and you bring your brother?”

“He's unshakable, Nasir. I didn't even tell him where I was going, he just sensed that there would be muffins and coffee and he followed me here.”

Nasir rolled his eyes fondly and returned to the back room.

-

The morning rush was just ending—not that there would really be any break today, but rather a series of waves that they had all learned to predict as accurately as the tides—when Sibyl's phone buzzed. She froze. They were right in the middle of the time period the litmag was supposed to respond... there were still three days left, though, so this was probably totally irrelevant. Another coupon. Spam. An e-mail from her mom. She kept her “working cash” smile plastered on her face and finished ringing out the latest customer and then, unable to help herself, called out to Nasir.

“Hey, sorry, could you cover my register for a quick sec?”

Nasir agreed readily enough, and Sibyl hurried towards the back so some old lady didn't shriek at her for checking her phone on the job; Laeta had had to pretend to fire her twice just to shut up customers, even though both times there had been absolutely no one in line. She scrolled anxiously through her apps and then...

Her fingers tapped open the e-mail without her permission, and Sibyl stared down at the wall of text. The words swam in front of her eyes—she couldn't make heads nor tails of them for a long minute. Then her gaze fixed on one word: congratulations.

Sibyl's hand flew to her mouth to hide her delighted laugh. Eagerly, she read further, and the protection of her fingers wasn't enough; she burst out in happy laughter and clutched the phone to her chest.

“Good news?”

She whirled around and saw Kore standing in the doorway to the kitchen. Sibyl held out her phone.

“I'm going to be published! _Three_ of my poems—they looked through my portfolio, they said they were all fantastic and usually they only take one from new poets, two or more from more established writers but they're taking _three_ of mine because they have something—sweet simplicity, they call it, that sounds a bit patronizing but oh my _god_ , Kore!” she babbled.

Halfway through, Kore seized her in a tight hug and didn't let go. Her hair tickled Sibyl's nose.

“Oh I'm so _happy_ for you, sweetie—you deserve every bit of it. Congratulations. Amazing job.” She pulled back and kissed Sibyl on the cheek. “You realize now you'll have to let us read it?” she teased. Sibyl giggled.

“I suppose—when it's printed.”

“Come on, let's go share the news,” Kore said. She looped their arms together and they went out to the main room.

-

It was almost closing. Laeta's fingers tapped anxiously on her desk as she stared fixedly at the clock. This could wait, right? They were at work and it was a private conversation, not something they should be sharing with their coworkers... as if Nasir and Sibyl wouldn't know immediately, anyway, she thought with a wry smile.

4:46. She couldn't wait any longer.

Decisively, Laeta stood up and walked into the main room. Sibyl and Nasir were both still here—although Nasir _really_ should have gone home an hour ago, she had told him he looked dead on his feet—and chatting happily. Sibyl's eyes were bright and Nasir looked more relaxed than he had been in a week, even if he was tired.

Kore was sitting at one of the tables with a book and a cup of coffee. She was officially off the clock; ten minutes ago they had  decided that they had no more need for fresh baked goods and she had deservedly taken a load off. Laeta paused for the first time in a good hour, just watching.

On each table was a cheap glass vase with a white rose in it, and from a particular angle the petals contrasted beautifully with Kore's dark hair. Her hair fell in loose waves over one shoulder and her head was tilted as she read her book. Her lips were curved in an easy, unconscious smile. On the plate in front of her was a cupcake wrapper, a smear of frosting, and a sugared violet—she always saved it for last. Her ankles were crossed and the tip of her foot bounced gently.

Laeta let out a content sigh and walked over to her. She took a seat in the chair opposite, and Kore looked up with a smile. The flower brushed against Laeta's nose; it tickled, and she lifted it out of the vase and inhaled the fresh scent.

“Ready to go home?” Kore asked.

“Not just yet,” Laeta said, spinning the rose between her fingertips.

“I am. I'm ready for a long bath and a relaxing night. Maybe a movie...”

“Mmm...”

Kore delicately picked up the candied violet and considered it absently.

“We ran out of these,” she commented. “I should have saved one, but I'm selfish.”

Laeta chuckled.

“No you're not.”

“I am. You give me what I want far too often,” Kore said, looking up from beneath her eyelashes.

“I'm about to do that again,” Laeta muttered to herself. Kore tilted her head questioningly. Laeta set down the rose and reached for her hand. “Let's do it,” she said solemnly. Kore stared at her blankly.

“Let's—”

“Have a baby,” Laeta nodded. “And we'd better hurry up, because Christina thinks it would be terribly unfair if she only got a year or so as a big sister before she has to go to college.”

Laeta had heard the reaction when Sibyl got her e-mail, and she was expecting something of the same sort, but Kore’s reaction this time wasn’t nearly so dramatic. She swallowed thickly. She dropped the violet on her plate and put her other hand on top of Laeta’s. Slowly, she leaned forward and rested their foreheads together. Her lips brushed Laeta’s.

“You are amazing,” she whispered. “And if I had any idea how happy I could be with you, with Christina—I can’t believe it was _chance_ that we met.”

“Do you want me to say something cheesy about fate?” Laeta murmured, and Kore laughed delightedly.

“No, no. There is _nothing_ that needs to be said.” She pulled back and picked up the sugared violet again, and held it up. “Want to split it?” she asked with a grin.


End file.
